


Overdue

by shatteredpetal



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, HitsuMatsu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:51:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredpetal/pseuds/shatteredpetal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filing through old reports, Hitsugaya comes across an event he has no desire for Matsumoto to reflect on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overdue

This was pushing it.

Even so, he would have expected her to arrive on time. Rolling his eyes, the Captain of the Tenth Division eyed the clock, and scowled. She was half an hour late, and he had a feeling she had forgotten the folder she was supposed to bring with her. Releasing a heavy exhale, Tōshirō slammed his own file onto the table, and made his way over to the kettle to pour himself some tea.

Just as he was about to take a sip, he heard a frantic knock at the door. _About time_. Mug of tea in hand, he approached the door and opened it, not very surprised to witness a flustered Rangiku. 'Captain, you won't  _believe_ how I was held up today––'

'Let me guess: your hair wouldn't cooperate? Couldn't decide what clothes to wear? Or, maybe, couldn't be bothered to get out of bed? I mean, it's only twelve o' clock in the afternoon, Matsumoto.' Ignoring her stumped expression, Tōshirō turned around and proceeded for his file. 'I hope you've brought your work with you.'

'Oh! Yes, right here.' She sounded  _way_  too pleased with herself. Grateful his Lieutenant wasn't all that useless, Tōshirō turned around to make sure she had brought the correct folder. Then his smile slowly faded away. Matsumoto blinked, looked at her folder, then back at him. 'This is the one you wanted, right?'

The temptation to explode was too much. 'Matsumoto,' he said, breathing slowly in an attempt to keep himself calm. 'Those papers are more than two years old. I wanted the papers we were meant to fill in  _a month ago_. These shouldn't be in your possession in the first place! How stupid can you get?!'

'All right! You need to calm down, Captain. You specifically asked me to collect the folder that said "paperwork important" on the front, and this is the one I found.'

'Did you check the date in the corner?' Hitsugaya slumped his shoulders.

She checked. 'Oh. I must have missed that.'

'Clearly.'

'Oh well, it's not the end of the world. At least we have yours, so look at the bright side of things.'

Tōshirō almost slapped himself. Sometimes, he found himself asking  _why_ Vice-Captain Matsumoto was under his command. It was indeed amazing how she was still employed, what with her missing meetings, refusing to file work, and forgetting important duties during missions. Well, at least she could handle a Zanpakutō, and very well even. There was some hope, after all.

Enthusiastic (for some peculiar reason) to get their work finished so she could spend the rest of her day off doing what she loved, Matsumoto grabbed ahold of his folder on the table. To her horror, though, it was heavier than she previously assumed. There was about fifty sheets of paper in there.

Gawping, she just stood for a moment. Surely her Captain was joking that they would get through all of this in a  _day_.

_But I've got better things to do!_

'Would you like some tea, Matsumoto?' Tōshirō queried, realising how Rangiku's mood had dropped significantly since she observed the chunky folder. 'You would still be happily in bed if you had done your work on time,' he said, pouring her a mug of tea anyway.

Rangiku sat down, and then let her head fall onto the table. A whine was heard.

'Welcome to my world.'

Placing the mug of tea beside her, Hitsugaya sat next to his Lieutenant and opened the folder, and started to organise the papers. Slowly, Rangiku raised her head and watched her superior officer get things sorted. Propping herself on one elbow, she wondered what else she could be doing during these terrible hours.

... sleeping.

A sigh escaped her lips.

'Now, the majority of these are not completed. The reports are mixed, and I can't tell you off hand which area we are supposed to be reporting. It tells you at the top of the paper, though. Look––' Tōshirō gestured to a country being named in The World of the Living, with a specific town and date. 'You remember what happened there, right?'

'Yeah, we bumped into a Hollow, exchanged pleasantries and went on our way.'

'Matsumoto, cut it out!'

Reluctantly, the Shinigami straightened herself up and took hold of the pen her Captain passed to her. True, if she had spent her shift hours working on this, she wouldn't be here at Tōshirō's apartment on her day off. Still, this was cruel of him. He knew she loved her days off; it was the only time she could have a haircut or buy clothes or be with her friends. Just because he was a lonely jackass with nothing better to do, that didn't mean  _she_ was.

Once, Tōshirō said that time flew when she finally got her head down. This was not so. The two were working for a good three hours, and, possibly in dire need to move her limbs, Matsumoto had occupied the floor. Lying on her chest, propped on one arm, she lazily scribbled away, legs in the air.

Tōshirō was on his fourth mug of tea. He soon joined Matsumoto on the floor to pass her a sheet of paper which was in the wrong pile. Rangiku seemed to ignore him at first until he tapped her shoulder for her attention. Snatching the paper from him, she moodily shoved it onto her  _slowly_ shrinking mountain.

'Oh...'

Raising a brow, she looked over at her Captain. Tōshirō was frowning, eyes briefly reading a report, before shaking his head. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' he said. 'Hold on.' Tōshirō shuffled over to where she was and began to search through her unfinished pile of paperwork. Curious, Rangiku watched him, until he made a sound of irritation and took a couple of sheets out. 'Sorry. Continue what you were doing. I didn't mean to disturb you.'

'What was that?'

'Nothing, Matsumoto.' Tōshirō placed the papers inside his folder so she wasn't able to see.

'It didn't seem like nothing, Captain.'

'I found a report on––' Hitsugaya was shaking his head again. '––It really doesn't matter, Matsumoto. The event happened a long time ago, and I'd rather we forgot about it. I know you have.' Then he realised he had said too much. Rangiku was now kneeling, no longer just curious, but a little concerned.

Unfortunately, Rangiku was very stubborn, and she didn't like it when her Captain kept secrets from her. She trusted him more than anyone. If he was refusing to be honest, then that was a little upsetting. So, due to her stubbornness and slight anger, Rangiku launched for the folder, and before her Captain could stop her she snatched the folder and shunpo'd to the other end of the room.

Growling, Tōshirō was about to get to his feet, but realised it was too late. She had already buried herself into the papers. Sitting back down again, he folded his arms, and waited for Matsumoto to realise her foolish mistake. After reading some documents, she lowered the folder, and hesitated for a second. Then she knelt back down in front of him again.

'I just needed to know,' she said, returning the folder.

Tōshirō exhaled. 'I'd rather you didn't do that again, Matsumoto.'

'Why were you keeping this hidden from me? Do you not think I can handle writing about what happened with Aizen? What happened before and during his death? I was there. I'm an eye-witness. I can deliver a pretty accurate account.'

'No, I refuse.'

'That's silly,' she frowned at him. 'Do you not think I'm good at doing that or something?'

Hitsugaya looked at her, and his gaze froze her in place. There was a distant fury in his green eyes, stopping the woman from speaking further. 'I didn't want you to go through that again, Matsumoto. It took you so long to recover, and I knew you'd been hiding these reports so you wouldn't have to fill them in. I know you're better now, but I still refuse. What happened to you was––' Tōshirō couldn't think of a decent word. The word "heartbreaking" almost escaped his lips, but he didn't know. How could he? He couldn't discover Rangiku's feelings externally. '––I know Ichimaru's death affected you.'

Of course Rangiku knew why he didn't want her to fill in these reports. They were extremely overdue, and it was surprising they still had to be done. Both had grown since, or Tōshirō had at least. It was a past neither wanted to return to, and, somehow, Hitsugaya had understood how dreadful Gin's death had been for her. He was right: she didn't want to repeat the events in her mind. Her heart still throbbed from the memory.

But–– 'It's my job, Captain.'

'Your  _job_?' Tōshirō placed a hand on the folder, as if expecting her to grab it again. 'Don't tell me about what your job is and what your job isn't. I am in command of what you do, and I am commanding you to do as you're told. No, I don't want you filing these reports because these events have damaged you psychologically. You were almost not fit for duty in the Division, it was that bad, and I  _can't_  risk you going through such misery again.'

It was well known that Captain Hitsugaya was a cold-hearted man. Any form of affection or warmth wasn't something he offered, and he seemingly wasn't fond of these traits either. In fact, the Captain was distant, detached. He was like his Zampakutō: chilling, and like ice most of the time.

So even though he was subtle in his words, Rangiku realised what he was trying to say.

That he didn't like seeing her so hurt. He didn't like it when she was grieving Gin's death, and he didn't like how he almost lost her because of it. This was difficult for him to admit. After all, he was expressing his personal feelings on a matter which had nothing to do with him. Her Captain was willing to do her work for her, because this type of work was damaging, and he didn't want her to be damaged anymore.

Tōshirō cared that much.

Neither were sure how it happened. In a flash, Rangiku's arms had fallen around his shoulders and she was hugging him tight. From shock, Tōshirō fell back slightly and saved his fall with his hand. With some hesitance, he slowly let his own arm come around her back, confused by what was going on. He honestly didn't expect Rangiku to feel so touched.

Swallowing, he lowered his chin slightly, having to admit he quite liked her this close. She was warm, and, for some reason, he liked her warmth despite his love for the cold. The perfume she wore wasn't too strong, it was lovely and kind of soothing. Very her. Rangiku tightened their embrace, and he let her hold him for a couple of minutes, the shade of his cheeks turning red.

When she pulled away, he tried to look at her in the hopes of some explanation, but Rangiku seemed quite unsure herself. Maybe she was just so flattered he cared that much about her, or maybe it was an odd way of saying well done for expressing your feelings. Either way, she felt he needed a hug, and she felt she needed a hug too. Plus, they had never truly embraced one another, and it was about time.

'You're cold,' she said.

At first he thought she was referring to his personality, then noticed her shivering. Even though he was trained to control his chilly reiatsu when becoming a Shinigami, that didn't mean he had complete control over it just yet. His reiatsu usually went overboard when he felt tense, and, when she hugged him, Tōshirō felt  _very_ tense.

Instantly he pulled off his jacket. 'Ah, sorry about that.' Then he draped it over her shoulders. 'Let me fetch you another mug of tea. Hang on.'

Rangiku smiled slightly when he left. Claiming hold of each side of his jacket, she held the material close. It honestly didn't help much, but she could slowly feel her body increase in temperature. The jacket smelt of him, a strange scent, a mixture of tea leaves and something fresh, almost like ice itself. It was nice, almost as if he was holding her again.

Soon, her Captain returned with a steaming mug of fruit tea. 'Here,' he said and passed it to her. 'I would put on the heating, but––'

'It's okay, Captain. I'll live,' she teased, sipping at her warm drink.

Deciding to let the matter go, Tōshirō nodded and sat back down again. 'We're nearly there. Half way through.' That was a pathetic attempt of his to brighten her mood.

For some reason, though, she didn't feel as down as before about the prospect of doing paperwork. There was something about Tōshirō's presence that she liked. She was certainly not the type of woman who needed a man to help her, but she did feel  _safe_  with him, and, maybe, her Captain felt mutual. His apartment had this nice, cosy atmosphere, despite lacking in heat. The place smelt of him, smelt of tea.

And even though his spiritual pressure could be aggressive at times, at least he noticed, and at least he could control it for the most part. In a few ways, Tōshirō was quite warm. Hugging him just then, she had witnessed a slight tenderness in him. He didn't push her away. If anything, he returned the affection.

'Thank you, Captain,' she said, returning to their work.

'What for?'

A smile reached her lips. 'For being you.'


End file.
